


The Pep Talk

by paintedpolarbear



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: First Dates, Gen, Hypothetical catastrophes, Poor Barry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8990167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedpolarbear/pseuds/paintedpolarbear
Summary: It's just coffee, but Barry is flipping out.





	

It’s T-minus four hours and Cisco has _got_ to put a stop to this.

(“This” being the small-scale meltdown Barry had been having, in various shades of severity, over the course of the last couple days, since the moment the highly anticipated Real Actual Date With Iris was confirmed.)

“Whoa, dude, chill out. It’s just Iris.” He realizes a moment later that that may not have been as reassuring as he’d hoped, because Barry looks up from his frantic pacing with a mixture of exhaustion and helpless terror.

“I know! Cisco, I know! But at the same time, it’s Iris! It’s like…what if this doesn’t go well?”

Inwardly, Cisco wonders why his best friend has to be such a fucking drama llama about this. Outwardly, he sighs, “Barry, you’re just going to get coffee, what could possibly happen?”

What could possibly happen? If he had the power, he would go back in time and slap himself for asking such a stupid question. In the face. _Repeatedly_.

“Okay, in order from most to least likely….”

Commence slapping. Any time, future Cisco. “Oh shit…” he moans, halfway wondering if he should just reach up and get to slapping his own face since his future-self isn’t getting the hint.

“…the barista gets clumsy and spills hot coffee all over Iris’ shirt, a metahuman attacks the city and I have to leave…”

Judging by the increasingly frantic nature of Barry’s resumed pacing…this could go on for a while. “Dude,” Cisco starts, hoping to cut him off.

“…one of us dies of old age in a freak time accident…”

Cisco palms his face. With both hands. “Dude!”

“…Man-shark comes back, _both_ of us die in a freak time accident…”

Without taking her wide eyes off Barry, Caitlin leans over and mutters, “He’s spent _way_ too much time overthinking this.”

“…Wells-2 turns out to _also_ be my enemy from the future and tries to kill me, the Earth is destroyed by invading Kryptonians, uh, downtown gets washed away in a flood…”

It’s all Cisco can do not to pull his hair out by the fistful. Then it hits him - “Wait, invading who-now?”

Caitlin interjects, “You decided flash flooding is less likely than a doubly-fatal freak time accident?” in that judgemental, almost condescending voice she usually reserves for adults who should know better than to try to run backwards on a treadmill set on forwards. Both of her eyebrows are tracking steadily into her hairline, and her hair is beginning to stand on end - Barry is pacing fast enough to be throwing off static electricity.

It’s time to intervene.

“ _Okay_! Slow your roll, Freaky Feet, deep breaths. Let’s pretend this actually won’t go well - so what?” Cisco waits for Barry’s best Absolutely Affronted look before continuing. He ticks off on his fingers: “You’ve been almost killed, _twice_ , by two different speedsters. Metahumans show up, like, every other week trying to stab you. Her fiance broke up with her literally because you’re married in the future, and then sacrificed himself to save you both. You almost got eaten by a time ghoul, you were trapped in the Speed Force for, like, three days–”

“Which sucked, by the way,” Barry says.

“The point is,” Caitlin says, “we–me and Cisco–of course we want your date to go well and everything to work out. We just want you to know that if it doesn’t–if something does go wrong–it’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, that bizarro cracking-an-entire-parallel-dimension-in-half thing we did? That _was_ the end of the world. Well, their world anyway, for a little bit, but–coffee with your soulmate? _So_ not.”

Caitlin scoffs and rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. Cisco is certain he’ll pay for his wisecrack later–in horrible, unmentionable ways, naturally–but for now it’s well worth it just to see Barry finally calm the fuck down, even slightly.

“Thanks guys,” Barry says. “I…that makes me feel a lot better.”

Cisco nods and claps his friend on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em.” Then adds, emphasized by an accusatory finger, “and if you _do_ cause any freak time accidents, I will kill you.”

That, more than anything, earns a chuckle. Barry grins wider than he has in the past week and says, “Well, I guess I better start getting ready. Four hours, right?”

“Three and three-quarters,” Cisco corrects. “And you better discharge before you–” He’s silenced by Barry’s super-speed _whoosh_ , followed a half-second later by a deafening, staticky crack and a rush of air.

“Ow!” comes the moan from somewhere north of the front door.

Cisco finishes his sentence, to himself, more for the sake of finishing things than out of any delusions of being heard. “Before you blow up the security door again.” Then he adds, for good measure: “Dolt.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to tumblr on May 23rd, 2016.


End file.
